From Purgatory, With Love
by Slinky-and-the-BloodyWands
Summary: Series of one-shots. Where do you put an ex-demon who slaughtered throughout the ages then died helping to save the world? Purgatory. But, she finds her way out. SPN S6. Sam/Anya.
1. One Ticket to Purgatory

**Disclaimers:** I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Supernatural. Rights remain with Whedon and Kripke (I think…maybe Gamble, too?).

**Warnings:** Season 6 Supernatural Spoilers and, obviously, set after some time after the Buffy finale. A little potty mouth-I mean, after self-preservation, Anya has two things on the mind, and one of them is really dirty.

**A/N:** This is a series of one-shots about the life and of Anya in the Supernatural verse and her relationship with one Sam Winchester. I'm posting them under the series title, so if want to keep up with them, you can simply add it to Story Alert instead of having to use Author Alert.

* * *

"One Ticket to Purgatory"

* * *

Her resurrection was, frankly, a little boring.

Crawl up from the abyss after what felt like years spent in a land of monsters, dodge the Queen Bitch of Evil and her horde of dragons, and immediately get lost. In that order. It took a few days of wandering aimlessly for Anya to figure out that she was no longer in her home dimension. Which made a certain kind of sense since a.) she was dead in her world and b.) the First Evil couldn't possess some poor virgin on her plane of existence.

This afterlife thing was turning out to be a royal pain in her ass.

While it appeared this dimension still used the same currency as her own (and Anya had went into the greatest battle of her life with a wad of cash in her pocket), there were rules that were definitely different here. D'Hoffryn had taught her a great deal about dimensional magical laws, and she began to pick up on this world's distinct variations. For example, salt? Not just for seasoning here.

And it was while being re-educated on the supernatural laws of the realm that she met them.

Oh, sure, all sweaty and hot looking while they were decapitating the vampire trying to eat her, and then someone, namely a cowardly little blood sucker trying to save its own hide, 'may' have brought up the little 'came from purgatory's emergency exit' thing. Which led to Anya's current predicament. Sweaty and hot looking demon hunters were suddenly eying a certain ex-demon with their weapons raised.

It was the tall one who caught her eye. Well, actually, it was the tall one's weapon, because she'd felt something like that before. The blade was practically radiating with power, and it reminded her of Buffy's oh-so-special scythe.

Anya couldn't help but be somewhat thankful that, this time, she'd at least have the benefit of a really hunky murderer as opposed to mutated blind monk wanna-be working for the momma of all baddies.

Her inability to keep that thought to herself ended up saving her life.

As it turned out, the hunters were far more interested in hearing more about said-momma than offing a little ex-demon.

* * *

"So, you're a demon?" Dean repeated, still confused by the creature currently invading his space.

Anya groaned, throwing herself down onto one of the two double beds and staring up at the pocked ceiling. This was turning out to be a very long night.

"No. I'm not. I was a demon. _Was_." When he grunted in doubt, she swung her arms up, slapping the pillow on either side of her head. "I'm obviously not a demon, genius, because I passed all your little tests, remember? I'm an _ex-_demon. _Ex._ As in _no longer_."

Sam raised a hand to stop her, the gesture looking far more relaxed than his older brother's tense stance. He leaned forward in his chair, his brow raised. "Wait, so you're saying you lost your demonic essence completely? You became fully human again? And you stayed in the same body the whole time? When you told us you were an ex-demon, we assumed you meant you'd…umm…seen the light or something. Not that you were actually... human." Sam shot his brother a look to stop Dean from blurting "and we all know how our last demon buddy turned out."

Dean rolled his eyes, but kept quiet.

"That's why Dean kinda freaked out when you crossed into the room without trouble," Sam finished.

Anya propped herself up on her elbows. "So, you were basically inviting me back to your place in an attempt to trap me in one of those silly little circle things?" She blew a curl out of her eyes and frowned. "And here I was expecting meaningless post-battle sex. This is officially a much suckier use of my time."

Dean choked on his chuckle, as if he'd tried to stop it a moment too late. And Sam, Sam's face, took on a red hue that it hadn't used in a while.

"Umm," he swallowed, "no?" He took a breath, collecting himself. "Could we go back to the being human part? How did that happen?"

"Well, actually, it was more like I started out human, then was offered a demonic deal, then was forced to become human again, then I was dumped at the alter, so I became a demon again, then I felt really bad, and ended up human again. Then I died." Anya paused to catch her breath, then seeming to realize she'd left something out, "Now I'm human again. Not sure how that happened exactly."

The men were quiet a moment. Then Dean did a double-take. "Say again?"

"Wow, that's…" Sam shook his head. "That's…"

"With a little more description this time," Dean added.

Anya wasn't going to point out that the response made no sense. "Yes, sure, because I have nothing else to do." She'd meant it as sarcasm, but the truth of it slapped her across the face. Her frown deepened. "But I'm hungry, so could we maybe could talk over food-oh, and of course, you'll be paying since you did manipulate me into coming back like the giant, studly teases you obviously are, and I should get _something_ satisfying in return."

"But… We didn't even…" Sam looked to his brother for help and received none. "I mean, we tried to trap you, sure, but…"

Anya sighed.

* * *

Anya decided this was Xander Harris's fault when it came down to it, but the guys had, still wearing extremely confused expressions, dismissed the idea.

They came to a rather simple answer.

When you spent centuries causing the deaths of hundreds as a demon and then died a human trying to help save the world, the universe had no idea where to put you. Purgatory, since it was currently opened wide in her universe-Anya was going to have a talk with the guys who'd named that a _Hell_mouth if she ever met them-had been the only solution. And since she'd slid into the hole with a body and soul, she'd crawled back out of it with those as well.

It was kind of half-assed as far as explanations went, but she went with it.

Dean and Sam thought this guy named Castiel might be able to provide a better answer next time they were in touch. Anya was fairly certain meeting an angel wasn't going to be pleasant and said as much.

The ex-demon noted that they had bigger fish to fry. Virgin-wearing fish who liked to throw monster parties everywhere she went.

The guys agreed.

* * *

As it turned out, this dimension was proving to be quite a bit like the home she remembered. Monsters, demons, impending and averted apocalypses. Then, of course, there were the warriors who fought it all.

Anya had never considered herself a warrior. Sure, her last few years in Sunnydale, she'd changed as a person. She'd quit running from evil. Just because she was in a dainty body instead of a demonically fueled one didn't mean she was without her own strengths, right? Granted, that sort of thinking had led to her untimely demise.

There was another thing the two dimensions shared. Apparently, people refused to stay in the ground, as she'd learned from the Winchesters. In fact, she'd learned quite a bit from the men.

"No."

"But…"

"Nope."

"Oh, I see, you'd rather me be the damsel in distress you have to rescue at every turn. I see how it is."

"That's not…"

"Sure, I suppose it helps you feel like more of a man to leave a poor woman defenseless against the forces of darkness."

"Fine."

That had been the short lived argument that had taken place before the Winchesters had decided to let her play with their toys, mainly their guns.

Anya wasn't sure how it happened, or when exactly it happened, but somehow she ended up riding in their beloved Impala with them, traveling to a haunting, the wind running fingers through her golden waves. There was something about them, about the way they moved, the way they looked at each other. Cared for each other… They were a family. Anya missed her family. Not the one she was born with, not for centuries now, but the other one. The one she'd made. The one who'd made her.

Watching the young men laugh, bicker, strategize, Anya had known from the get-go they were preparing for a battle in a war they'd been fighting for years. And she realized following a group of humans was probably going to, once more, be her downfall.

Who knew, though, maybe she'd come back again. Death wasn't set in stone.

Dean cranked up the music, leaving Anya to scowl. Sam's eyes rose to meet hers in the rear-view mirror. The gaze was laughing at her. But there was more than humor in his smiling eyes. It was something she recognized. Dean saw it too, and Anya was fairly sure that was the reason he'd let the woman stay with them. As an unspoken favor to his little brother.

Sam the tall one. Anya contemplated the idea. His height presented an interesting sexual challenge. Not a particularly new challenge for her, but an interesting one nevertheless. Anya smiled back at him, knowing without seeing that he'd wet his bottom lip the moment he'd noticed the expression.

Anya decided it was okay to miss her family. And it was okay to make a new one, too.

"So, who's going to teach me how to play pool?"


	2. Rabbits Go to Hell

**Disclaimers:** I do not own_ Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ or _Supernatural_. Rights remain with Whedon and Kripke (I think).

**Summary:** SPN Season 6. Dean is pretty certain his brother has extremely strange taste in women.

**A/N:** Mentions of season 3's "Bad Luck in Blackrock," but still set firmly in season 6. Just a short, fluffy addition to the _From Purgatory, With Love_ universe.

* * *

**"Rabbits Go to Hell"**

* * *

Anya reached out, holding Sam's hand against the table-top in an inter-dimensional sign of sympathy. "That's _terrifying_!"

Sam smirked, a little confused, and shrugged it off. "Sure… but, I mean, the good-luck-gone-bad ended as soon as it was burnt to a crisp, so…"

Anya shook her head, a 'whatever' in the movement, "But you willingly _touched_ it? That gross little _foot_?" She gagged. Anya, who'd spent the better part of an hour discussing a giant worm creature's digestive fluids, _gagged _as if a rabbit's foot were the most disgusting item in all of creation. "If I never see another one of those again," she muttered, "it'll be too soon."

She shivered. Sam bit his bottom lip, forcing himself to empathize.

"So, there weren't any in purgatory? Rabbits?" Sam asked.

"It's the only thing that got me though the days, really. Just knowing that, of all the creatures lurking in the darkness, there was no chance of running into one of… them."

Anya's voice was low, reminiscing, but the dramatics were easily heard over the low hum of the creature-feature playing on the television.

Dean snorted, continuing to clean his guns, a little disbelieving shake at his head. He didn't have to look up to know that Sam had closed his laptop, rapt attention on the woman sitting across the breakfast table from him. Because, hell yeah, she was fascinating.

Dean Winchester had been with his share of women. All types of women. Sure, he hadn't been raised with a mom or sister (_Samantha not withstanding_), but he'd certainly been exposed to the fairer sex. And the fairer sex usually had no problem with exposing themselves to him.

So, it was hard for Dean to admit that his brother's new girlfriend - which was exactly what she was, whether Sam knew it yet or not - was different from all the other women he'd ever met. And that was including the last chick Sam had taken on for more than one night. _Yeah, more alien than even she-who-shall-not-be -brought-up, the back-stabbing black-eyed bitch,_Dean confirmed, hearing Anya continue…

"Of course, I can only assume that since there were no _rabbits_," she hissed out the word, as if it were a curse, "in all of Purgatory, they must be breeding like crazy in the pits of Hell. I mean, they have to be there, right? Because those beady-eyed freaks can't go to Heaven, they just can't..."

Dean felt his entire body tense with anticipation. His eyes shot up, glaring daggers through the back of the woman's head, but just as suddenly as his panic had appeared, it disappeared again. Because his little brother wasn't staring off with a far-away look, wasn't on the verge of collapsing with a fresh wave of horror. The _wall_was holding. Sam was safe from his memories.

In fact, he was laughing, a deep, hearty sound, eyes gleaming, dimples at both cheeks. Happy. Sammy was happy.

"You know, I'm sure I remember there being bunnies," he confirmed, a flat-out lie.

But Anya was leaning forward, grinning with an "ah-ha!" on the tip of her tongue.

Dean let out a breath. It was shaky, worry leaving his heart pounding against his ribcage, but the sound of the couple talking left him smiling.

Sure, Anya was strange. Maybe a bit too blunt. Maybe a bit too demon-y. But Sam hadn't had a seizure once since she'd come into his life. It was like he'd quit poking at the past, quit trying to remember, too busy focusing on what was right in front of him.

Yeah. Dean kinda liked Anya.


	3. Baggage from Purgatory

**Disclaimers:** I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Supernatural. I do believe that right goes to Whedon and Kripke.

**One-Shot Summary:** Anya and Sam discuss their exes.

**Warnings:** Talking about ze sex in typical Anya manner, but nothing graphic. Some language. A few spoilers, but nothing too huge for SPN s6.

* * *

**"Baggage from Purgatory"**

* * *

Anya rolled over onto her back, breathing heavily, a slick layer of sweat dampening the blond curls touching her bare shoulders. She turned her head, giving the man beside her an impressed assessment. Sam only smiled up at the ceiling, silent, and crossed his arms behind his head.

"That was fun," Anya commented. "We should do it more often."

Sam laughed. "Sure, but I think Dean would actually like to come back into the room every once in a while."

Anya cocked her head. "Well, let him in. It's not like that would stop us from having sweaty multiple orgasms."

Sam shot her a glance, confused. In the short time they'd known each other, Sam hadn't quite been able to tell exactly when she was joking. He decided that she was teasing him. He really, _really_ hoped she was teasing him.

"Maybe we should start getting separate rooms," he said. He cleared his throat, as if the idea had left him feeling guilty. "I mean, not that we don't mind your setting up a cot but-"

Anya slapped his arm, sitting up to rest her back against the headboard. She looked distressed by the idea. "Wait, so you want me to have a separate room so you can visit and make with the trips to Happy Town, then leave again to rest up with your brother?"

Sam pushed himself up onto his elbows, looking panicked. "I didn't mean…I mean, I didn't think you'd…Crap, Anya, I…"

"Actually, that sounds rather efficient," she mused, tilting her head to one side. "Also, it would help your brother get laid. He seems like the type used to having more sex, which is likely why he's been using all the hot water. I feel kind of sorry for him."

Sam blinked. "Could we just not discuss my brother's sex life?"

"Oh, sure." Anya grinned back down at him and leaned in for a kiss. "I'm far more interested in your sex life, anyhow."

But he didn't seem entirely pleased by the response. "I like this," he started, gesturing to the heap of bedding. "I really do, but, Anya, you, you're not just…"

"Using you for the sex?"

Sam slipped out of the bed, pulling on his boxers. He turned to face her. "That's not what I meant. In the past, with the whole ex-demon thing, just…I don't know that much about you, Anya."

"What's to know?"

* * *

"… And, honestly, yes, I had done some nifty spellwork in my youth. Nothing too impressive, you know, just boils on the penis, a spot of dysentery every time the intended reached an erection, that kind of thing. But what I did to Olaf, it caught the right attention…"

Sam raised a hand to cut her off. "Anya, I get the picture. But that's not what I asked."

"You mentioned your first time, so I told you about mine," Anya noted.

Sam shook his head. "Yeah, but I didn't want a ramble on vengeance. I wanted to know what your life was like, Anya." He paused. "Though, yeah, I _would_ like to know how you kill a troll."

"You're a very particular male, Sam Winchester."

* * *

Anya didn't like it when Sam got this way. Sure, she'd been told several times over the years that she was too blunt, too unaware of human sensibilities. But, damn it, she wanted to know.

"Sam, you're avoiding the question," she pointed out.

Sam kept his back to her, gathering up the loose sheets of paper spread over the table top. "Anya, I really don't want to talk about it."

"So, it's fine for me to cut open my chest and spill out my heart for you, but no, you can't even talk about one ex-girlfriend? What is so horrible that you can't even mention her by name in front of me?"

"This isn't about you, Anya!" Sam snapped.

"Oh," Anya's eyes widened slightly, "that must be it."

"Be what?"

"Your 'bitch face'. Dean mentioned you might be wearing it if I asked."

Sam slammed his hands down on the table before turning back to the woman, his jaw tight. "You know what, if you're so interested in what Dean has to say, ask him about Ruby."

Anya snorted. "Don't you think I already have?"

Sam mouth dropped open in surprise. "You did?"

Anya rolled her eyes. "Of course I did, Sam." She shrugged, sitting down on the edge of the bed. She'd felt this way before, and she was afraid of what it meant. Rejection, that's what usually came after she stuck her neck out too far. But that didn't mean she was planning to let it go. This was important, darn it, she could tell. More for him than for her, maybe. "I mean, I started to draw some parallels, Sam. Demon-y ties, magic, lots of fun sex. Not so much blood play on our end, though," she added, almost as an afterthought. "But you can see how I was concerned about the whole 'oh, we stabbed and killed her' thing. But when I spoke to Dean, he told me the rest. He told me why you might not want to talk about her."

Sam made a move to the front door but stopped, releasing a breath. He sucked back in whatever he was about to say, his face still flushed with anger, and took a seat next to Anya. "You're nothing like Ruby," he said, "but if you already knew about her, why did you ask?"

Anya bit her lip. "That's not the girlfriend I was asking about, Sam," she said. The comment was soft, strangely restrained, as if she was trying very hard to not say what was on her mind.

Sam caught his face in his hand, his expression oddly blank when his fingers pulled away. "Jess," he said, voicing the realization. "Jessica."

Anya leaned her shoulder against him, enjoying the familiar warmth radiating off his arm. "Tell me about her."

* * *

"What a friggin' dick."

Dean made the statement and left the room. His expression had been dark, distant, and Anya had a feeling he wasn't talking about Xander Harris's infamous wedding bail. She looked to Sam for explanation, and he was there, ready for it. Just like he always was.

Anya liked that about Sam, how he didn't seem to mind explaining things to her. Never tried to make her feel stupid.

"I think he misses Lisa," Sam said.

Anya nodded. She wasn't sure why she nodded, but it seemed appropriate. "He left her because of something that might have happened. You Winchesters never say what you mean when you're asked directly," she observed.

Sam raised a brow. "You do?"

"Sure."

"Alright…" Sam licked his lip, suddenly nervous, but sat a bit straighter. "Prove it. Answer me straight. Do you still love this Xander guy?"

Anya frowned. "Maybe. A part of me does. Maybe that part will always be there. But there's another part of me that never will again. That can't. Does that make any sense?"

Sam grinned. "Yeah, Anya, it makes perfect sense."

They were quiet a moment, listening for the faint muffle of Dean, outside the motel room, cursing the bird who had dared to unload over his Impala. And they enjoyed the near-silence, the presence of each other.

"You know." Sam shook his head, as if there was something funny about the situation. "We've got a lot of baggage between the two of us."

Anya agreed with that. "Think we've got enough time for a quickie before Dean gets back from the carwash?"

"Yes. Yes, I do."


End file.
